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Poetry Addict  Feb 2
Hail
The sun goes out some days:
And with it the fallacy of light,
Which gleamed the ice and snow for us
And made it beautiful
Slow liquids, sentient as streams
We make our way
backs bent like old men
In battle against the invisible

I eye the ground warily, as if gravity had turned enemy
a demon that possesses the feet
Sleepwalker
Nature isn't always friendly. Walking home in hail.
Kathryn Rose  Mar 2018
Ruined
Kathryn Rose Mar 2018
Don't you dare speak those words.

You know exactly what they will do,
to you,
and to him.

There will be no more
you and him.

Like the peach blossoms
broken from the delicate, young branches,
the verbal hail storm,
the weight of the ice,
will knock him to the frozen ground.

Raw,
Unsure how much affection he can return,
of how his own whirling thoughts fit with yours.
Your tale, far from fairy, will end.

Your open heart will shrivel,
like the salty sardines you left on the wooden picnic table
in the burning sun.

You will regret your thoughts and
you will regret your feelings,
but know, sadly, there was nothing left to do,
but leave too soon.
Ashari Ty Feb 12
.. .. ..
Freeze the droplets, halt the rain
But nature will always bring
Hail storms or snow
Either way, everyone is cold
.. .. ..
Poetoftheway Feb 11
the Hail Mary transgression:
falling in love with me when it crosses over the line

guilty of the same, so even when I condemn the errant woman,
with an ice block from a Northeastern pond of no soft forgiveness,
which is still and yet, the only cutoff ending appropriate

but you woman, deserve to learn that
emboldened fantasy that crosses broken bold lines,
is a jagged rot that doesn’t cure the dreamy unreality of
the-cannot-be,
it’s pouring hot water on scalding burns entrenched

guess time to share that your fantasy is the
number one commandment
that this boy also violates routinely so he has a phd of experience,
and the burn proofs when he thot he too could be,
Cervantes, the knight errant, lover of the impossible woman

I, guilty as charged by “The Duke,” am an idealist and bad poet,
so many poet-women here I secret cherish at levels that are nonsensical, absurd, ludicrous
and hold the fantastical fantasty of them dear,
so close and so near, so mine

wrote them each love poems, and they know it,
now, here, in my confessional booth,
my priestly punishment always the same,
ten thousand Hail Mary’s,
but I cheat the cohen priest,
and just write another poem,



this one is about the line that never can  could  will be
crossed, hail mary!
The Duke from Man of La Mancha
CK Baker Mar 2017
its amazing what we’re capable of when pressed;
lunar launches
and shaman healing
hail marys
and fortunes of gold
heavy hauls
and broken borders
war, compassion
and treaties of peace

all those wild and lofty regressions from the mean;
soul re-settings
(from deadly deeds)
scores and scriptures
liberty and peace
walls, asylums
(in the jaws of defeat)
channeled spirits
of warmth
and love
and connection

and sometimes, it’s just a little fodder;
pyramids and viaducts
aqua-lines and chunnels
spider climbs
and deep dives
base jumps near the high wire
gardens and divine art
and even water boards
(for beauty is in the eye of the beholder!)
have a look around
and let gratitude be your guide
laura Apr 2018
Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing
they DJ’d at a party and i got rly drunk kayyyy

edit: thx angela for lighting this one up :3
Alyssa Underwood May 2017
I saw a path and ran ahead
I nearly lost my way
Your mercy caught me by the arm
To Your side You bid me stay

I put my hope in my own plans
Which soon around me fell
You stopped me short upon that road
And said, "Rest and all will be well."

I'd surrendered all, but to my foe
Enticed into the briars
You turned his evil schemes instead
Into refining fires

I couldn't see my helplessness
Until my legs were broken
Till Shepherd's hands caressed my wounds
And healing words were spoken

You picked me up and carried me
And made me feel Your favorite
You held my head against Your chest
Until I grew to savor it

You tended me with gentlest touch
Then soothed all thought of fears
You sang forgiveness over me
And washed away my tears

There is no one like You, Lord
On whom I can rely
In loss, in danger or attack
You hear this poor sheep's cry

It's You Who keeps me from real harm
Who watches my coming and going
You shield me with Your strong right hand
From darts the enemy keeps throwing

You said to all who trust in You
You would give perfect peace
Enough for mind and heart to rest
To let all worrying cease

So, Lord, I trust You with my life
Your Shepherd's heart is pure
Your purpose for me's guarded well
And Your deliverance is sure

Please teach this sheep, Lord, how to wait
And strengthen me to stand
To put my hope in Your desires
And to love Your sovereign plan

You lead me into fields so green
Where streams of life are flowing
Where healing winds blow oft' and strong
And choicest fruits are growing

You set me free to hear Your voice
To follow at Your call
And even through the dark, cold nights
I'll know You've arranged it all

Yes, storms will come with battering rains
With hail and gusts and thunder
But these are meant to beckon me
To Your wings to pull me under

For it's in the darkness of the storm
My grip's most apt to tighten
And when my heart beats next to Yours
All earthly burdens lighten
~~~
A Slow Heyoka Apr 20
Words of amendment attempted to form around my mouth
As I watched a sinking ship sail away over a burning bridge

I tried to smack them away with a kiss but it just left a rash of scorn
Which seemed to spread all the way to the elbow grease I'd been saving for that rainy day

It made it really hard to pull my head out of the asphalt
The hole I could have left it in forever
I guess I can always go back to it whenever

If it wasn't for these vexing and inauspicious Idle hands
I'd be at the end of the game by

                                                         NOW

There's salt on the bedsheets and tears in the mill
How I long for those poison claws
To drag me back into her ghyll

Frosty fingers burning my neck
Scratching at the hourglass sands
Chasing that nostalgic wyrm back into the pages of Zanarkand
                               .                .
And still...         .            .
                          []        []
           It may seem a little cliche
               I find it kind of hard to convey
The hardest thing I did to this day
       Was watch that sinking ship
                                                                ­                ...Sail away
poem by: A Slow Heyoka
Written in September 2017
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